


calm me down

by soyicedcoffee



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyicedcoffee/pseuds/soyicedcoffee
Summary: ryan can't calm down - shane helps.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is just... self indulgence at its finest. title references the mother mother song.
> 
> i have the utmost respect for the people this fic is based on. this is just for fun, or whatever. lol.
> 
> this probably won't actually get that explicit, or even that overtly sexual, just a warning. rated explicit because, you know, adult themes or whatever.
> 
> okay, thanks for reading!!!

The first time it happened was after the Sallie house.

Ryan was so worked up in the car back to the hotel, almost manic in how he laughed at Shane’s teasing and stumbled over his words to defend himself. There was something wild in his eyes, and his movements were jerky and chaotic – not an usual reaction for Ryan after filming on location, but it seemed to be heightened somewhat – in the flailing of his hands and the tense set of his jaw. Probably due to the late hour, Shane figured.

By the time they make it back to the hotel it’s four in the morning. The sky is beginning to lighten, and Shane can feel a tension headache building behind his eyes.

“I’m gonna shower,” says Shane, pausing to give Ryan a chance to fight him for first dibs – he figures Ryan deserves it, after the night he’d had.

“Yeah,” says Ryan absently, already rummaging through his overnight bag, “I’m just gonna look through some of this footage, see if we caught anything good,”

Shane wants to protest, insist Ryan get some sleep, but if he wanted to stay up like an idiot, wasn’t that his prerogative?

The lights in the bathroom are harsh, illuminating the hollows of his eyes, the pallid tone of his skin – he was getting way too old to be up this late, much less up this late ghost hunting. He loved doing Unsolved, and he’d keep it up as long as Ryan needed him, but he knew his body couldn’t recover from these late nights like it did in college.

He quickly gets undressed, trashes his contacts, and climbs in the shower. He keeps it short – although the hot water feels amazing, he’s also desperate to get some sleep before they have to leave for their mid-morning flight home.

When he leaves the bathroom, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt and ready for a wholesome four hours nights rest, Ryan is sitting on his twin size bed, back facing him, hunched over his camera. His hair is wild, Shane notices, like he’d been running his fingers through it constantly, and he looks so tense sitting there, shoulders hunched up by his ears.

“Ryan?” Ryan doesn’t seem to hear him, “Dude, do you want to shower now?”

Shane circles around to the side of the bed Ryan’s sitting on, and Ryan only looks up once Shane’s close enough to touch him. Shane’s not one to worry over Ryan needlessly – Ryan’s a grown ass man, and it’s clear from experience that he can generally handle himself, despite his easily scared nature – but the look in Ryan’s eyes gives him pause. It’s so frightened and tense that it’s almost like they never left the Sallie house.

Shane reaches out on instinct, clasping what he hopes is a steadying hand over Ryan’s shoulder. He can feel Ryan’s breathing now, quick and shallow under his grasp, and his shoulders are shaking minutely. _What the fuck?_

“Jesus Christ, Ry,” he breathes, crouching down in front of him, holding his gaze, “What’s wrong? Are you still that freaked out?”

He chuckles, raises his eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood, but Ryan’s face just crumples, and when Shane reaches to take the camera from him he buries his face in his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Shane’s using his most soothing voice, almost speaking in a whisper, “Ryan, what’s going on? Should I call someone?”

Ryan finally reacts at this, looking up through wet eyelashes and shaking his head frantically, “No, no, Shane,” he takes a deep breath in, almost a sob in the way it rips through his chest, “I’m- I don’t know, I’m fine. I’m just freaked out or whatever, I’m fine.”

Shane lets him ramble, but he’s clearly not fine. Shane doesn’t know how Ryan can possibly expect him to believe that – does he think Shane doesn’t know him at all?

“Ryan, I won’t call anyone if you don’t want me to, but I’m really worried about you, man,” Shane reaches to where Ryan’s hands are shaking between them, and steadies them with his own. His knees and back are killing him in this position, crouched on the gross hotel carpet, but he’s not willing to move and risk losing Ryan’s attention.

“I’m sorry, Shane, I don’t know- I don’t know why I’m being like this. I just- I can’t calm down, I can’t breathe. God, I can’t breathe,” he gets progressively more panicked as he speaks, ripping a hand from Shane’s grasp and clutching it against his chest.

Shane feels at a total loss. This kind of reaction is something he’s never actually had to deal with before. The voice in the back of his mind chastises him – _this is why you don’t get this close to people, you idiot._ He sighs, _too late for that now._

“Ry,” Shane tries – Ryan is clearly deep in his own head – he gets like that sometimes, though never to this extent. Usually it just manifests as a little bit of uncharacteristic snappiness, and when left to his own devices it usually dissipates in a matter of a few hours. Shane’s never considered himself particularly intuitive, but he senses that it’ll take more than a couple hours left alone to calm Ryan down this time.

“Ryan,” Shane says again, and this time his voice is more commanding, urgent, echoing in the small room and making him cringe a little at the noise. But Ryan focuses back on him instantly, dark eyes wet but clearly trained on Shane. Shane nods to himself, trying to regain his bearings – sometimes Ryan’s gaze just…. throws him off. He clears his throat.

“Is there anything I can do?” He hears his own voice waver and he feels like an absolute idiot in this moment, completely inadequate.

“I…” Ryan starts, but trails off, breaking eye contact with Shane and looking down at his lap, “Could you just… tell me what to do?”

At this, Shane lets out a disbelieving laugh. Ryan said it so quickly, so quietly that it sounded like all one word, and Shane wonders if he’d misheard, “Tell you what to do?” he mimics back at Ryan, trying to get any sense of what he might mean by that.

He can feel that his eyebrows are raised, and the look on his face is probably verging on comically confused… but Ryan’s not laughing, he’s just looking at him shyly, earnestly, with those big dark eyes, and his whole body is still trembling with anxiety. Shane abruptly feels like a complete asshole, and attempts to moderate his facial expression, shocked laughter dying in his throat.

The trusting, desperate look in Ryan’s eyes… it triggers something in him, gives him a rush of bravery he didn’t know he had, and he’s running on instinct as he reaches out and touches Ryan’s face, thumb brushing his cheekbone, palm spanning his jaw. Ryan instantly leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. Something about the gesture, the leaning in, makes Shane’s heart clench in his chest, and he draws in a sharp, shocked breath, almost a gasp.

“Okay,” says Shane, “okay, Ryan, whatever you need,”

Ryan hums - a sound of need, or want, or relief, Shane’s not sure – and he feels the vibration of Ryan’s jaw through his arm, emanating into his chest. It’s achingly intimate, something that would normally give Shane pause in his interactions with Ryan, cause him to take a step back. In this case the feeling just spurs him on – because Ryan’s so sweet, so vulnerable, and Shane has to give him what he needs, even if he doesn’t really understand it.


	2. Chapter 2

Shane stands from his position crouching by the bed, his bones cracking in the silence of the room. Ryan would normally make fun of him, _wow, what are you Madej, 89?_ But Ryan’s just looking up at him, silent and unsure from his seat on the bed. Shane reaches a hand out.

“C’mere,” he says, and Ryan grabs his offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled unsteadily to his feet.

Shane’s completely lost. The idea of his relationship with Ryan going anywhere beyond “bros” is something he’s never considered, and he’s certainly never thought about their relationship becoming…. this. Whatever _this_ is. Shane’s not sure what it’s called when you platonically boss around your best friend to prevent them from having a mental breakdown.

Regardless of what they’re calling it, Ryan is standing there in front of him, and Shane knows he has to _do something,_ because Ryan’s looking so lost, still tightly gripping Shane’s hand that he used to help him up. He’s sweaty, a light sheen covering his face and arms, and his hand is clammy in Shane’s. It’s not hot in the room – it’s actually verging on chilly, with the AC – so it must just be a physiological reaction to his panic attack.

“Do you want to grab a shower?” The sweat drying on Ryan’s skin cannot be comfortable, Shane figures.

“Do…” Ryan hesitates, his voice softer and shyer than Shane’s ever heard – from Ryan or anyone else, “Do you think I should?”

A burst of warmth explodes in Shane’s chest, like regular affection but about a thousand times more intense. Ryan’s so submissive, so yielding – so unlike his usual, belligerent self... it’s absolutely intoxicating, and Shane suddenly gets it. He gets why Ryan wants this, because he wants it too.

It’s easy from then, to lead Ryan into the bathroom, to run the shower for him, to help Ryan pull off his sweaty shirt and jeans, to kneel down and undo Ryan’s sneakers, pull off his socks. It should be weird, to have his best friend standing before him completely naked – it should definitely be weird to be guiding him into the shower, the way Ryan so willingly follows his lead – but it’s not.

He hesitates for only a second before he grabs Ryan’s shampoo, pouring some into his palm and lathering Ryan’s hair for him. Ryan shivers a little as Shane’s fingers scrape against his scalp, his eyes falling closed. He seems to really relish the contact, leaning into Shane’s touch, so he keeps it up for longer than is strictly necessary, languidly running his hands through Ryan’s dark, silky hair. His fingers catch on a tangle, causing him to tug a little, which elicits a small, needy sound from Ryan. Shane feels a tug, something like arousal deep in his stomach. _Okay, then._ They’re silent as Shane holds a palm over Ryan’s eyes and rinses the shampoo from his hair.

He chickens out when it comes time to clean the rest of Ryan, not quite ready for that level of intimacy – although they’ve already crossed so many lines, Shane wonders what one more would really matter. Instead, he takes Ryan’s hand and pours a generous dollop of body wash into his palm.

“Wash, okay? I’m gonna grab you some clothes,” Shane is hesitant to leave Ryan alone, but he looks more lucid than before, eyes no longer glazed in panic, and he nods at Shane’s suggestion – Or order? Instruction? Whatever.

Shane goes out into the room and rifles through Ryan’s duffel bag, grabbing a soft hoodie, a pair of clean boxers, and Ryan’s towel – he never travels without it. By the time he reenters the bathroom, Ryan is shutting off the water and climbing out of the shower. Shane hands him his towel, and sets the clothes on the vanity.

“Thank you,” says Ryan softly. Shane leans against the sink, watching Ryan dry himself off and get dressed in the hoodie and boxers Shane chose.

Ryan’s looking at him expectantly, but Shane’s caught off guard, unable to speak. The sight of Ryan standing there, wearing the clothes Shane picked for him, looking so trusting and vulnerable… it absolutely melts his heart. He steps forward and pulls Ryan into his arms, because it feels like the only thing to do at that point – his heart might actually burst, otherwise. Ryan makes a small, confused noise, but after a second of hesitation he leans in, wrapping his arms around Shane’s waist.

“Thank you,” Ryan says, muffled where his face is pressed into Shane’s chest, “For making me feel safe.”

Shane just hums, pulling Ryan a little tighter against himself. He doesn’t trust himself to speak through the lump in his throat. He feels tears prick at his eyes, but he blinks them back. He briefly wonders why he’s getting so emotional over this, but determines it must be due to the mixture of the late hour and intense vibe of the night.

They stand there for a long time, by far the longest hug they’ve shared before – probably the longest hug Shane’s shared with _anyone_. When Shane pulls back, the look on Ryan’s face is a little bit blissed out and a _lot_ exhausted. “C’mon,” says Shane softly, leading them to their beds.

\---

They don’t talk about it. In the morning, Ryan is unusually chipper for someone who got less than three hours of sleep. Shane, on the other hand, is essentially dead to the world. The contrast is verging on comedic. Ryan pokes fun at him, and Shane just mumbles into his coffee, getting in the occasional sarcastic quip – he doesn’t function well on less than eight hours. He wants to point out to Ryan that it’s really his fault that he’s so sleep deprived, but he restrains himself. If Ryan wants to move on, act like it didn’t happen… Shane isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. It’s probably best to just forget it, anyway.

But as the week goes on, Shane doesn’t forget it, as much as he tries to make himself – as much as Ryan seems to have forgotten about it. He just can’t get it out of his mind. He lies in bed at night, kept awake not only by the memory of that night, but also by the worry about WHY he’s thinking about it so much in the first place.

It had just been… nice. It’s nice to take care of your friends, he thinks. Maybe it’s just some kind of weird paternal instincts thing. He’s pushing thirty, it’s not totally out of the question. But that doesn’t account for some of the… decidedly less paternal feelings he’d been having towards Ryan – especially when he remembers the shower, how he’d moaned when he’d tugged at his hair… Okay, maybe paternal instinct was out as an explanation.

Things at work are pretty much totally normal, and for that he’s grateful. Ryan must have compartmentalized everything to the deepest part of his psyche, Shane reckons, because his behaviour is virtually unchanged. They work on Unsolved stuff together a little, and Shane pitches in on editing the Sallie house footage. Shane also starts on a new Ruining History video, and he spends all his extra time at work and at home researching, script writing, starting on a few preliminary graphics. He knows he’s using it as a distraction, but at least it’s a productive one.

It’s two weeks post-Incident (as Shane has taken to calling it) that Ryan shows up at his door. It’s 7 in the morning on a Saturday, and Shane’s still in bed when he hears the buzzer to his apartment ring. He almost ignores it – nothing good can come of a visit at such an ungodly hour, on the weekend no less – but after a few seconds of hesitation he gets up and buzzes the person in.

When he opens the door to a knock a minute later, after hastily brushing his teeth and patting down his wild bed hair, he’s greeted with Ryan’s smiling face. He’s holding a large bag from McDonalds, too – _god bless,_ Shane thinks.

“Hey,” Ryan holds out the bag like an offering, probably because he knows Shane doesn’t usually accept visitors before noon on the weekend. Shane accepts it gratefully, moving to the side to let Ryan enter.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Shane leads him in the kitchen, and rifles through the bag with a yawn, pulling out a breakfast sandwich and hash brown, “These for me?”

When he looks up, Ryan’s standing there, in the middle of Shane’s tiny apartment kitchen, just staring at him. He pauses with the sandwich halfway into his mouth. Shane puts his food down on the counter, “Dude, is everything okay?”

Ryan looks nervous, “I just wanted to apologize,” he starts. He’s looking at Shane, clearly gauging his reaction.

“Okay…” Shane says slowly, “For what, exactly?”

“About what happened, you know, after the Sallie house. I…” He hesitates, trying to find the right words, “I was freaking out, but that was totally inappropriate, and probably really weird for you. We don’t have that kind of relationship, and even if we did, that kind of thing has to be negotiated beforehand… which we wouldn’t do, obviously… since we don’t have that kind of relationship,”

Ryan says all this seemingly in one breath, and it sounds like he’s going to just continue talking if Shane doesn’t cut him off.

“Ryan, it’s okay. I get it. You were freaking out, it wasn’t weird,” Shane thinks, privately, that it objectively probably was at least kind of weird – but it was probably even weirder that Shane didn’t really find it that weird, subjectively speaking. Or that Shane didn’t really find it weird at all. He found it… the opposite of weird, actually.

Ryan doesn’t look relieved at Shane’s reassurances, “Dude, you don’t have to try to make me feel better. I know it was totally inappropriate and you probably… I don’t know, think of me differently now, or whatever,” Ryan looks so guilty and ashamed, not keeping eye contact at this point, but he’s clearly also determined to say what he came here to say, “I just want you to know I really value our friendship and our working relationship, and I would never jeopardize that for anything.”

“Ryan,” something in the tone of his voice makes Ryan look up at him from where he’s staring at the linoleum floor, “I really meant it. It’s okay.”

Ryan must detect the sincerity in his voice, because he raises his eyebrows in surprise, “But, you-“

Shane cuts him off, “Did you think it was weird?”

Ryan splutters, “Well, I mean, of course it was weird, I-“

“I mean like, at the time. Did you think it was weird, then?”

Ryan’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, “No, but…” he trails off again, and the gears in his mind are so obviously turning that Shane almost laughs.

“Me neither,” says Shane with a shrug. He reaches for his breakfast sandwich, abandoned on the counter, and takes a bite.

“Okay,” says Ryan, drawing out the word uncertainly, “We’ll just… forget about it then?”

Shane shrugs again. He’s the nervous one now, “Sure, if that’s what you want,” Shane takes another bite of his sandwich, thinking, choosing his next words carefully, “But if you want to… not forget about it, that would be okay too.”

“What does that mean?” There’s a blush blooming on Ryan’s face, so Shane reckons he must already know what it means.

“I just mean, if you need anything, you can come to me,” Shane knows his tone is too casual, his phrasing too indirect, but he’s never been one for serious talks. He has to trust Ryan knows him well enough to get what he’s saying.

And he must get what Shane’s saying, because he looks a little shocked, jaw slackened and eyebrows raised, “Okay. I mean, we’d have to talk about it, obviously…”

Shane reaches into the McDonalds bag, grabbing Ryan’s food. He hums in agreement, “We can talk about it, but lets eat now,” he presses Ryan’s own sandwich into his hands.

Ryan rolls his eyes, flush still obvious on his face. He’s clearly suppressing a smile, “Fine, you idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.... i'm not very happy with this, but at a certain point it becomes a waste to trash the whole thing, right? So here it is. Comments truly make the world go round, so let me know what you think! I appreciate it probably more than you realize!


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